


watching, waiting

by givebackmylifecas



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa Lives, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, season 5 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: Andrés risks a glance over the side of the roof and watches the armed officers rappelling up, entirely unaware that they’re no longer in contact with command and are instead being observed by the people they’re trying to go into the bank to kill.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Professor | Sergio Marquina, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	watching, waiting

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this](https://twitter.com/VoRLCDP/status/1356189812475256832) footage of filming for s5 happening and the police trying to get into the bank
> 
> TWs for references to sort of implied suicidal actions (Berlin dying in s2), references to character death, canon typical violence

“Berlin?”

Lisbon’s voice is loud in the echoing quiet of the library. They hadn’t even been in the bank a full day and Andrés was already tired of it. Sure, it was better than prison, but given the choice he’d rather be in whatever tropical hideaway Sergio had organised for himself after the last heist than here.

From his spot beside him on the sofa – well, more like on top of him – Martín twitches in his sleep and Andrés reconsiders his stance on being in the bank. It does have one advantage.

Martín looks different now than he did five years ago. Dark rings under his eyes, his cheeks more hollow, not to mention the scarring all over his face. They’d pulled glass from Martín’s eyes, that’s what Stockholm had told Andrés and Martín had turned his head away when Andrés looked at him, as if ashamed of it.

Lisbon calls his name again and Andrés sits up, dislodging Martín. A glance at his watch shows him that they aren’t even halfway through their four-hour allotted shift for resting.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Lisbon gives him a grim look and hands him the portable radio. He takes it from her, fiddling with the earpiece until it’s settled properly, then speaks.

“Professor?”

“Berlin,” his brother’s familiar voice almost puts him at ease. “We have a problem.”

“Don’t we always,” Andrés says, settling a hand on Martín’s knee when he sits up next to him with a yawn and a mistrusting look at Lisbon.

Sergio makes a noise that’s almost a laugh, but is tinged with hysteria. “Well, we have two problems actually. Firstly, the new inspectora… she found me and I had to incapacitate her.”

Andrés blinks. “The pregnant one? Is she dead?”

Lisbon sucks in a sharp breath next to him even though she had to have already known.

“No,” Sergio says. “Not dead. But she shouldn’t be an issue unless anyone followed her.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Andrés asks, perhaps callously judging by the look on Lisbon’s face.

Sergio lets out a shaky breath that even the static on the radio can’t cover. “I nearly killed a woman, Andrés. A pregnant woman.”

Andrés rolls his eyes. “And people call me sexist. Hermanito, whether she’s a woman or not, if she was a danger to you, to us, to the plan, then you did what you had to do.”

“Maybe,” Sergio says. “Anyway, it’s not important. I called about something else.”

“And what would that be?” Andrés asks carefully.

“The police,” Sergio says. “They’re planning on coming in. Descending from the roof by the looks of it.”

Andrés can’t help it, he freezes for a moment. He can’t not think about the mint, and how he’d stayed behind hoping to finally put an end to the journey he’d begun the minute he walked out of the monastery, only to wake up weeks later in a prison hospital, in pain and alone.

A hand on the back of his neck drags him back to the present. He looks to his right, finds Martín staring at him, concern visible in the carefully guarded eyes that Andrés almost didn’t recognise when he and Lisbon first stepped off the roof.

Andrés clenches his jaw and nods. “So what’s the plan, Professor?”

-

It’s not like the mint, it’s not. Even though they have a browning and sandbags and grenades, exactly the way they did in the mint. For one thing, they’re on the roof, not in the basement. For another, Sergio had made it clear in no uncertain terms that everyone was getting out of this alive, without injuries. Most importantly, Andrés isn’t alone this time.

He can see Tokyo and Stockholm, hiding behind a vent on the other side of the roof, Denver and Rio hovering in the doorway, that less than twenty-four hours ago Andrés had rushed through, his heart beating harder than it has in months, reminding him that he’s alive, that he’s free.

Gravel crunches beside him as Martín – Palermo now, a new name for this new person he became in Andrés' absence – shifts, his boots digging into the ground as if he’s ready to run at any moment. He risks a glance over the side of the roof and watches the armed officers rappelling up, entirely unaware that they’re no longer in contact with command and are instead being observed by the people they’re trying to go into the bank to kill.

Andrés takes a breath as he checks his gun. It’s not like the last time he did this, when his hands were shaking so hard, he gave up on reloading, instead stepping out into the line of fire. His movements are smooth and steady as his fingers run along every inch of the weapon.

“Andrés?”

It feels like the first time Martín has spoken in hours. Realistically, Andrés knows that’s not true. Martín had spoken plenty as he argued with Sergio about the plan, when he put Tokyo in her place with well-aimed insults.

It was strange to see him so integrated into the group, yet so at odds with them too. It felt familiar to Andrés, as if Martín had come in and filled his slot while he was gone but found it lacking.

“Are you okay?” Martín asks.

Andrés wonders if he’s asking because he’s the only one who can, or if it’s because he’s the only one who cares.

“Fine,” he says and Martín’s mouth twitches like he wants to disagree.

Instead, he just shakes his head and turns away again. Before he can think about it, Andrés’ hand snaps out to wrap around Martín’s wrist.

“It’s like the mint,” he confesses and Martín’s jaw clenches.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. Because I’m here. If I’d been in the mint I would have gotten you out.”

His hand moves, breaking free of Andrés’ grasp to thread their fingers together, for just a moment, before he let’s go again.

“So you’re going to get me out of here?” Andrés asks, trying and failing to colour his voice with the teasing humour they’d once shared so easily.

Martín fixes him with a look that feels like too much and not enough at once. “Of course.”

From below, they can hear the sound of glass breaking and Tokyo and Stockholm start to ready their smoke grenades.

Andrés thinks of Martín’s face last night, shadowed by the dim lights of the bank, telling Andrés just what he thinks of him. He’d never thought it possible for someone to love and hate the same person so much at the same time, but Martín always was the exception to most rules. He looks over at how Martín is white-knuckling his own gun.

“Martín?”

The other man looks over at him, eyes squinting to focus on him properly.

“Thank you,” Andrés says.

Martín scans his face for a moment, as if searching for any hint of deception. “Don’t thank me yet, I’m keeping you alive so you can make it up to me once we’re out of here.”

Andrés raises his eyebrows. “You haven’t forgiven me then? Seemed like you had earlier.”

Earlier, before Lisbon walked in with her radio and Sergio’s anxious warnings. When it was just the two of them in the dim silence of the library and Martín’s hands were curled in Andrés’ jumpsuit and Andrés’ fingers were threaded in Martín’s hair.

“I missed you, you asshole,” Martín mutters. “That doesn’t mean I don’t still hate you.”

He flashes Andrés a sharp smile that Andrés returns.

“Noted.”

Rio and Denver start to move towards them just as Andrés’ earpiece crackles to life.

“Berlin,” Lisbon says over the radio. “Helsinki, Manila and I are in pursuit, they’re on their way up to you guys.”

“Understood,” Andrés tells her, signalling Rio and Denver who sprint over to the Browning and dive behind it. “See you soon, tell my brother I said hi.”

Lisbon makes an impatient noise, then signs off. Martín throws him a look.

“Stop antagonising your sister-in-law.”

Andrés smirks at him and then leans across to press a hard kiss to his mouth. “Ready?”

Martín glares, but picks up his gun. “Ready. Don’t die again or I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll do my best, mi amor.”

They turn towards the door and together they wait.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it, i wrote it very quickly in between doing other stuff! i'd love kudos/comments or you know, just come scream at me on tumblr ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com)) or twitter ([@angstypalermo](https://twitter.com/angstypalermo)) if you like


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